


Definitions

by Rosie_Rues



Series: The Rising Storm [7]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-12
Updated: 2006-08-12
Packaged: 2017-10-22 19:34:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/241751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosie_Rues/pseuds/Rosie_Rues
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remus gets back to discover all his book have been confiscated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Definitions

**Author's Note:**

> 'Ullo. Sorry - haven't been around much. Too busy with real life stuff.

Remus was two steps into the dorm before he noticed the sullen atmosphere. He paused, glancing around to see who had injured or offended whom.

Peter was sitting on the end of his bed, drumming his heels against the side with a bored expression. Sirius was lying down, looking demure enough for a newly fledged angel, and flicking through a huge book.

Remus’ heart sank.

“Where’s James?” he asked casually.

“Detention,” Peter intoned. “Catching tadpoles for Slugbum.”

It was pissing it down outside, the rain lashing the windows. On the fourth floor, the corridors had flooded where the windows hadn’t been able to withstand the force of the gale. James had obviously annoyed somebody considerably.

Which was worrying, because he hadn’t had detention when Remus left for his rounds this evening. Bugger. Lily was going to have a fit. At least she couldn’t blame him if he hadn’t been there.

Sighing, Remus kicked off his shoes and outer robes and dropped under his bed, fishing under his pillow for his pyjamas. No one had sewn them up today, and they were no smaller than they had been this morning. He sniffed them warily.

“We haven’t done anything to them,” Peter said.

Good. Perhaps that meant that Sirius had finally forgiven him for being made a prefect. Or possibly just that he had been preoccupied. Remus eyed him cautiously. He seemed utterly absorbed in his book.

Upon which note, if James wasn’t here, it should be quiet enough for him to finish his chapter. He opened his drawer and paused.

“Where’s my book?”

“Gone,” droned Peter.

“Gone?”

“McGonagall confiscated it.”

“ _What?_ ” What the hell was against school rules about _The Longest Journey_?

“She took all our books away.”

Remus looked around. It was hard to tell, given that they only used drawers for storing illegal materials, but the only book he could see in the chaos was the one Sirius was reading.

“She even took the ones we nicked from the Restricted Section.”

“But they were on top of Sirius’ bed,” Remus said blankly. “How did she know?”

“She always knows,” Peter said.

“And _why?_ ”

“One of them escaped,” explained Peter. “Took a lump out of Regulus Black.”

Remus stared at him. “You’ve been charming _books_ to _attack people?_ ”

“Attack Slytherins,” Peter corrected, looking scandalised. “Not people.”

“I hate you. All of you.”

“McGonagall already took points!” Peter yelped.

“Wanker. Why’s he got a book?”

“It’s a dictionary,” Sirius said, without looking up. “McGonagall gave it to me.”

“He’s supposed to be looking up the definitions of _illiterate_ and _hooligan_ and writing them out six hundred times.”

“Each,” Sirius added, with a sigh.

There was no sign of either paper or quill on his bed. Remus scowled at him. He was sick of all this. Bad enough that they were planning pranks without him, even though he’d be obliged to stop them if he was included. Now his books were gone, and Sirius was still being a complete twat.

“What is he doing, then?” Remus said. “As it’s obviously not lines.”

Sirius eyed him coolly and read aloud, “Dick: obscene slang, penis.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Remus snapped. “How old are you?”

Sirius flicked through the dictionary. “Lupin: Any plant of the genus Lupin; bearing erect spikes of usually purplish-blue flowers.”

Peter honked with laughter, and Remus glared. No, Sirius had not yet forgiven him. He said, “What does it say if you look up Sirius Black – complete wanker?”

He got a smirk. “God’s gift to women.”

“D’you think Remus wanks by plucking petals?” Peter demanded. “Heh. Show us your blue spike, then, Lupin.”

“Fuck _off_!” Remus snarled and jerked the curtains across.

Why wouldn’t they just leave him alone? He hadn’t asked to be a prefect.

There was a soft thump that sounded like Sirius’ pillow hitting Peter’s head.

“Remus?” Sirius said uncertainly.

“What?” This had better be an apology.

Peter sniggered. “I think Sirius wants to help you with your flower arranging. Ow, fuck, get off me, you great poof. Remus!”

Remus settled back against his pillows, wondering if it was worth stopping Sirius before he killed Peter. The thought of eternal detention rose in his mind, so he called, “Stop it. It’s too hard to dispose of the body.”

Sirius snorted, but a moment later he came crashing through Remus’ curtains. Remus heard Peter wheeze in relief, but he was distracted by the fact Sirius was sitting on his legs and glaring at him.

“Why are you such an enormous prick?” he demanded, poking Remus in the stomach.

“Me?” Remus protested. “I’m just peacefully existing in the corner here. You’re the one making my life hard.”

“Hard as a purplish-blue spike?” Peter called.

Sirius dragged a pillow from under Remus and hurled it out. Peter yelped, and Remus snapped, “Stop giving him ammo. And stop being a wanker.”

“When you stop being a fucking martyr,” Sirius said, crawling forward.

“You put itching powder in my pyjamas.”

“You laughed when I did that last year.”

“You weren’t doing it every night, then.”

Sirius paused, frowning thoughtfully.

Remus closed his eyes and willed him to go away. Instead the bed creaked as Sirius moved, settling down beside him.

“You don’t have fun any more,” he said.

Remus cracked his eyes open to see him lying on his back, hands behind his head. He looked thoughtful, which was usually dangerous.

“I’m not supposed to have fun,” Remus told him. “I’m supposed to be responsible for you lot.”

“That’s not fair,” Sirius said, as if he was considering it. “Everybody should be _allowed_ to have fun, even if they can’t actually right now, y’know.”

“How profound,” Remus said. “Can I have my bed back?”

“No,” Sirius said and poked him in the hip. Then he let his hand stay there, fingers digging in. “I’m going to sleep.”

“You can’t sleep with me,” Remus said.

To his surprise, there was no comment from the other side of the curtains. Peter had obviously gone to sleep.

“Yes, I can,” Sirius said, turning over to settled his head on Remus’ shoulder. “Now shut up, and I’ll steal your book back tomorrow.”

He really ought to argue with that, but it sounded almost like an apology, so he just squirmed around enough to bring his blankets up. Sirius, with a noisy yawn, stole half of them.

“I don’t know why I bother,” Remus muttered at him.

Sirius blinked at him, grinning sleepily. “We’re mates, Remus. Friends. Look it up.”

“Git,” Remus said, when he had swallowed back the stupid smile that didn’t deserve, but by then Sirius was either asleep, or pretending.


End file.
